Three times is enemy action. Or somewhere, whoever is in charge of her fate is laughing at her vindictively. It definitely isn't the charm.
She gets the call from Espo as she's walking out of the shower, nothing more than a brief report of a body at the Hotel Grand Meridien, an address and a notification that Lanie is already on her way to the crime scene. It's close to midnight and she was almost ready to go to bed, but they're on duty team and unfortunately homicide rarely respects bed times.
There is a follow up text from Espo but she's weaving through traffic in her cruiser, and doesn't have to check it till she gets to the crime scene, but by the time she gets there she's forgotten. It still feels strange to be alone in the cruiser sometimes. Occasionally Ghost-Castle will chime in with a hummed tune, but usually here most of all she feels his absence palpably. The hours they spent in this car, talking about everything and nothing. Where she first decided to tell him about her mother. Where he saved her life for the umpteenth time in the river. This small, enclosed space which came to hold a mix of both their scents, to the point that driving in it had felt painful for the first six months.
It's drizzling when she arrives, cold and dark late at night, and she cinches her coat tighter in response. Her hair is still a damp mess, and pulled into a messy bun. No time for niceties when a body drops like that, it's pull your clothes on and go time.
The crime scene is cordoned off, as usual, a tiny little alleyway behind the hotel. She pauses for a moment, lets her eyes rove over the scene, letting her instincts guide her to any hitherto unnoticed yet important details. She can see Lanie crouched over the body a little way down. Ryan is talking to one of the uniforms, probably the first cop on the scene, taking intense notes in his little notebook. Esposito isn't here, probably out canvassing witnesses. An open door spills light out, obviously leading out from the hotel's kitchen or laundry or whatever it is inside.
Long enough. She strides forward towards the body.
"Hey honey, you OK? Ready for this?"
Her mouth twists into a moue of surprise at Lanie's words. She has worked hundreds of homicides. Of course she is.
"Sure. Tell me about the victim."
"Female, mid-40s. Single GSW to the head. No signs of violence or trauma. I'd put time of death at around 11pm." A quick check of her watch. Half past midnight. The victim is dressed in an elegant evening gown that probably cost her monthly salary, golden hair pinned back into a beautiful bun. Expensive necklace left untaken. Not a robbery, at least.
Ryan comes, concern written on his face too. She cuts him off before he can say anything.
"What did the uniforms say?"
"Nothing really. Got here like half an hour ago, cordoned off the area, searched for any witnesses. No one saw anything or anyone leave the alley."
"Doesn't mean anything." She nods at the door. "Who discovered the body?"
"One of the hotel staff. The hotel is hosting a political-cum-charitable fundraiser which the victim was attending. Victoria Kruger, she's working on one of the campaigns." He checks his notes. "Jeremy Compton's."
"OK, I'm going to find Espo." She steps towards the open door, finally remembering the follow-up text from Esposito as she does so. Unlocks her phone and reads it.
Heads up Beckett. Castle's here and is one of the witnesses.
She stumbles. She never stumbles in her heels, not even once, and yet. She stumbles.
Looks up to find him right there, right there just inside the goddamn doorway, his eyes looking straight at her. She's wondered how he'd look at her for three years now. Whether she'd see anger, sorrow, desperation, hatred, fear. Whether he'd ever look at her again the way he used to, look at her like she lit up his world, which made him light up hers.
She never expected this.
Dull, lifeless, washed-out blue eyes.
Gone was the sparkle that had drawn her in against her will the first time around. Gone was the nine-year-old on a sugar rush who she'd found equally exasperating and endearing.
And yet she can't look away. She can literally feel the hunger in her gaze as she drinks the sight of him in, every inch of his tall, strong frame (he's lost some weight), the way his tux fits perfectly across the broad planes of his chest, the first inklings of grey in his hair (it is new, and it is ridiculously attractive). He breaks eye contact first, with a brief shake of his head. Is that disappointment she reads in that gesture? Or is she merely projecting what she thinks he's feeling…
"Beckett." Espo butts in.
She's glad for the distraction, but her eyes betray her, reluctant to leave Castle's broad form, now pulling out his phone. She can't see if he's texting or simply playing Angry Birds.
"Tell me." Her voice is raspy.
"Vic was talking to Castle at the fundraiser gala thing around 10:30 or 40. She got a phone call that made her distraught and excuse herself from the conversation. He saw her head here towards the kitchen. Waited for her to come back. When she didn't, he asked one of the wait staff to go look for her. Body was reported at 11:15."
"Did the wait or kitchen staff see anything?"
"They saw her walk through to the alley on the phone. No one saw anyone walk in afterwards."
"Trace her phone records. Quickly. Maybe we can find the mystery caller tonight. Maybe they're the killer."
"Warrant is already out."
"Thanks, Espo." Her eyes centre back on Castle. She squares her shoulders and draws in a deep breath. Time to do this.
"Listen…I can do the interview with Ryan. You don't have to put yourself through this."
She shakes her head briefly, once. She's the lead detective. This is her job. She is very good at her job. It is the only wholly good thing left in her life and she'll be damned if she lets him (or herself, really) rob her of that.
I know a lot of you have been waiting for Castle to re-enter. Me too, frankly.
Reviews brings quicker updates, as ever.